


Breathing Room

by xraelynn



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s07e18 Brand X, Hurt Fox Mulder, Mulder in the hospital, POV First Person, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-23 20:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13795659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xraelynn/pseuds/xraelynn
Summary: A post-"Brand X" look at Mulder and Scully in the hospital from Skinner's POV.





	Breathing Room

I'm about to enter his hospital room when the sight of them from the doorway makes me pause. Scully is leaning in close to him, her hands on his arm, speaking softly in his direction; something about "rest" and "home." I can see Mulder's jaw working like he's trying to nod, but it's obvious from the glassy tint to his eyes that he's only half-aware of what Scully is saying. Even from the doorway I can hear the sound of his breathing: harsh and guttural, matching the dip and rise of his chest. They still have him on oxygen, but it doesn't seem to be doing much good. With great effort his eyes sluggishly track over to me, and I can feel Scully tense as her head swivels around slowly to follow his gaze. I'm surprised to see her visibly relax as she realizes it's me.

Without taking her hands off Mulder's arm, Scully half rises out of her seat, jerking her head towards the door in a gesture I can only assume means _Take it outside_.

"Mulder, try and get some rest," she says quietly towards the prone man in the hospital bed. Mulder's eyes are already half-closed, but his lips curve at what I can guess is a familiar refrain.

Outside in the hallway, Scully seems rigid, tense, as if she is holding her own breath to store it up for Mulder.

"I thought you were his doctor," she explains. "They keep popping in to marvel at his recovery and then increase all his meds. Mulder's in no condition to argue, but I think you can imagine how much he appreciates that."

"How's he doing?" I ask. Scully looks down at the floor.

"Not as well as I would like," she admits.

"I thought his lungs were clear."

"They are. But he's still having some respiratory difficulties."

"They've got him on a lot of drugs," I observe, looking past her towards Mulder's door. The truth is, I've never seen Agent Mulder so docile, so still. I think back to the dozens of reports Agent Scully has written me during her years with the X-Files smoothly categorizing her partner's outstanding array of hospital stays; obviously Scully has.

She nods. "His system was severely compromised. He's very weak," she says, not disagreeing. She looks away for a moment. "It hasn't been a good year for Mulder and hospitals," she says finally.

The resignation in her tone alarms me. "Are we talking permanent damage here, Agent Scully?"

She turns toward me, her response a small sigh. "Mulder recovers amazingly fast," she says. "Whether it's in his best interests or not."

Scully looks tired. Christ, we all do. "Go get some sleep," I tell her, in a tone that will brook no argument. "I'll stay with him."

She turns from me to the doorway of Mulder's hospital room and back again, looking almost wistful. "Are you sure, sir?" she says finally. "With any luck, he'll sleep for a few hours now."

"And so should you," I respond. "Go."

Scully looks grateful. "Thank you," she says. "His doctor is on call if you need anything from him. And — " She hesitates. "The nurse can give him a painkiller, if he asks."

"He won't ask," I say grimly. I may not know Agent Mulder perhaps as well as I should, but I know him well enough to know that.

I watch Scully head down the hallway before I enter Mulder's room, where he is not sleeping as Scully predicted. Rather, he seems to be staring towards the window — wondering, I imagine, what the weather is like outside.

I cross the room and raise the blinds to let in the daylight. "Thanks," Mulder rasps. He flicks his eyes over towards the doorway, no doubt thinking of Scully even in her absence.

"How...is she?" he says, licking his cracked lips.

"She's worried about you," I respond honestly. "Your heart nearly stopped, Mulder."

Mulder nods wearily. He's heard this before.

"Tired of...saving my ass," he murmurs. "First it was...the psych ward. Then ...Chicago. Then...undead. New Year's Eve."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but he continues. "Snakes...I guess maybe...I didn't pass."

Snakes? He must be hallucinating. Although New Year's Eve sounds familiar...Then with a start I realize what he's doing. He's cataloguing his injuries — and those are only the ones serious enough to have required hospitalization and thus wind up on their expense reports.

"Christ, Mulder," I mutter under my breath. "Is it like this every time?"

I hadn't expected that he would hear me, but in response he shakes his head and closes his eyes. "No," he says. It comes out in a whisper. "No."

A soft noise at the door makes me turn. It's Agent Scully, of course, looking at Mulder with such undisguised tenderness that I feel like an intruder just being in the same room.

"I'm sorry, sir," she says quietly. "I left my purse under the chair and..."

At the sound of her voice, Mulder's eyes flitter open.

"Hey, Mulder," Scully says gently. "I thought I told you to get some sleep."

"You said...rest," he objects. "I'm...resting." His tone indicates his unspoken words: that he's been 'resting' in this North Carolina hospital for longer than he cares to think about.

"By cataloguing your greatest hits for A.D. Skinner?" she says lightly. "I heard your little rundown."

I can see Mulder's throat work as he swallows. Scully steps into the room and takes her place at the other side of Mulder's bed.

"I never get tired of saving your ass, Mulder," she says quietly.

"And...you never get tired of — "

"Don't go there," Scully interrupts warningly, but for the first time some of the tension seems to leave her, and she allows Mulder to see a small smile.

Mulder is struggling to keep his eyes open, struggling as he has been for days now to breathe, but he reaches for Scully's hand and entwines his fingers with hers.

"Stay...with me, Scully," he says.

Scully's smile is genuine and a little sad. "Always, Mulder," she says softly. She rubs his fingers with hers as his breathing begins to even out, some of the wheezing sounds gone from it.

Scully's eyes are somehow apologetic as she turns to me. She opens her mouth to speak, but I shake my head, fearing that her voice might disturb any chance Mulder has at peace.

I want to tell her I understand, but the truth is that I don't. No one can. All I can do is leave the room as unobtrusively as possible, hoping only that their time together will allow each of them, at last, room to breathe.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written and posted in 2006.


End file.
